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Weekly Contest #364
I dream of fire. I dream of purple hearted flames and flickering shadows and a red gauze sky. I dream of open-mouthed ghosts in ceremonial dance, rising from jet black ash. I wake with my fingers tingling, the urge coursing hot through the valleys of each fingerprint. The shed on the edge of Mr. Duncan’s lawn goes up quickly. It burns and burns, and I watch from the trees, peaceful for just a moment. *** Detective Brower was a volunteer firefighter once, when he was eighteen and wanted desperately to be a hero. But he never got to run int...
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